


Jared

by poisontaster



Series: AKB Outtakes [5]
Category: Actor RPF, CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Gen, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1982. A very early look into Jared's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jared

"Master Jeffrey?"

He's supposed to be doing his homework. Instead, he's mostly been daydreaming about that kid Chris's mouth, so the interruption is both welcome and unwelcome. "Yeah, Deed?"

Deirdre had been his first body-slave, only a handful of years older than him and not terribly much more knowledgeable than him. Nothing had ever come of it—which Jeff thought was kind of a relief to both of them—but Jeff's folks had kept Deirdre on anyway, even after they replaced her with Jean. 

"Can I talk to you a minute?" His mother makes the household staff wear uniforms, but Deirdre's got a lumpy, hand-knitted cardigan over it, wrapped up tight and her arms crossed over her ribs on top of that. 

"Sure." Jeff scratches the back of his neck and hopes he doesn't look as horndog as he feels. "What's up?"

Deirdre tucks a straying bit of hair behind her ear. "Is it true that you're moving out? That you'll be taking your own residence?"

Even though Jeff knows it's common knowledge—and that he's spent the last several weeks arguing about it with his father, to say nothing of his grandfather—he can't help the panicky rush-jump of his blood at the thought of being overheard. It had been a complete surprise to everyone—including Jeff—when his grandmother left him the Los Angeles house in her will, but Jeff was damned if he wasn't going to take the leap she'd offered and get the hell out while the going was good. "That's the plan," he agrees, with far more nonchalance than he feels. 

Deirdre smiles. Though working for his family hasn't been especially kind to her, her smile is still incandescent, lighting her tired face and giving her back the truth of her years. "That's great, Master. Congratulations."

Jeff waves a hand, embarrassed. Deirdre had been stuck with him on at least two of his early childhood attempts to run away. Which is probably why they hadn't turned out any worse than they had; Deirdre was always a lot more practical than him. But she knows him. Knows how much he wants to get out of this mausoleum his family calls a home. 

"You. You know I'm pregnant, right?"

Jeff's pleasure about his impending escape fades abruptly. He knows. The whole house knows after Jeff's grandfather blew up at the dinner table about it, incensed at what he regards as sloppy housekeeping and sloppier moral standards. The fact that Franklin Morgan owns all the family slaves, as household head, only makes it worse. 

"Yeah," Jeff says softer. "I heard. Congratulations, Deed." He can't put the same note of pleasure into his voice that she had, as much as he'd like to.

Deirdre's smile wrings sideways, her fingers twisting at the nub of her sweater. "We didn't do it on purpose, Harry and me."

"H-Harry?" Jeff repeats, startled. In all the yelling and screaming, the fact that their house accountant was the father of Deirdre's baby had never come up. 

"Oh." Deirdre pushes her hair back again, color blushing hot in her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "I thought you knew."

"No." Jeff has a hard time picturing the two of them— Hell, he's got a hard time picturing Harry at all. He's worked for the Morgans for a long time, but Jeff's never been involved with—or been judged old enough, smart enough or mature enough to be involved with—the family's finances. He's got a vague impression of stooped and gangling height and a brain-label of _not hot enough to be interesting_. Jeff blinks and then shakes himself. "No, I didn't, but that's great, Deed. I hope you guys are happy."

Deirdre shrugs carelessly, but the smile ghosts back onto her face. Then she gives herself a shake, too. "That's not why I came up here." She crosses to him and kneels at his feet, head bowed. The gesture is still as smooth as ever and Jeff's cock gives a little pulse, vaguely interested. "I want to ask you a favor, Master Jeffrey. I know that I have no right, and no expectation of your help…"

"Aw, Deed, come on." Jeff reaches to tip her chin up, closing his fingers around her bicep to tug her up. "Don't do that. Please."

Now that he's touching her, Jeff can feel how Deirdre's trembling. "Hey." Jeff tucks her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek. "C'mon, Deed. Can't be that bad."

"I want you to buy our baby," Deirdre says in a rush. "I need… Please, if you've ever felt anything for me at all, I need you to buy our son."

"What? Deed…"

Deirdre shakes her head, sending more hair tumbling messily from her ponytail. "No. _No._ Your grandfather… He'll sell the baby, you know he will. And I can't, I can't…" She looks up at him, huge-eyed and desperate, starting to water over. Her fingers clutch at his wrists. "You can take care of him. My _son_ , Jeff. My son. Please. Please do this for me. I'll do anything. Just do this for me." Her nails are digging into his wrists, but Jeff couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. "Please, Jeff—Master—please…"

"Deed." He's seventeen and he doesn't know a goddamn thing about kids. He'll be on his own, for the first time ever. Bringing a kid into that equation, an infant… "I…I don't know."

 _"Please,"_ Deirdre insists again. Her eyes are flooded, spilling over onto her cheeks. "I don't…I don't have anything. Nothing you couldn't have anyway, but I'll give you everything I have, Master, I…I…" She lets go of him to part her cardigan and fumble with the buttons of her uniform, sniffling.

Jeff is paralyzed long enough to glimpse the silken, unornamented whiteness of her bra and the lush swells of her breasts before he puts his hands over hers, tugging her bodice closed. "Deed. Jesus, don't do that. You don't have to do that." He's not proud of the ten seconds that he actually considered it, but ironically, it seems all his family's talk of morality has done him some good, after all. 

Deirdre looks up at him again, her mouth a thin and trembling line. "I don't want my son to end up some Lord's bed toy."

Jeff closes his eyes. It's not that he didn't know Deirdre—or Jean, or his parents' or grandparents' body-slaves, for that matter—felt that way. It's just easier not to hear it. So much easier.

"Okay," Jeff says, his stomach twisting just at the thought, the responsibility he's taking on. He's not good with responsibility, God knows. But he knows Deirdre's right. His grandfather will sell the baby, if only to teach the house an object lesson. Franklin Morgan is the law here and everything in this house—everything, even procreation—happens at his bidding or not at all. He'll sell the baby and then God only knows what will happen to it—him. Deirdre's son. Harry's son.

"Okay," Jeff says again. "I'll go to my grandfather. I'll get him to sell me the baby."

Deirdre makes a noise like a sob before she slaps her fingers over her mouth, bending her head so he can't see her eyes.

"Hey." Jeff shifts in his chair, wood creaking. "I haven't done anything yet. I don't even know that Grandfather will sell him to me."

Deirdre shakes her head, face still averted. "You will. I know you will. You're his grandson."

"Yeah, well, that's never cut that much water with him before."

"It does." Deirdre sniffles loudly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Family's the only thing that old bastard does give a damn about." 

Jeff can't argue with her, there. He grabs a tissue from the box on the desk and hands it to her. She grimaces her thanks, scrubbing her eyes and then her nose with it, licking dry lips. The silence spins out uncomfortably, but Jeff doesn't know exactly how to break it. 

"You'll take care of him, right?" Deirdre asks finally, tossing her hair back. Her hands are folded in her lap, cradling the slight bulge of her belly. "You're good at keeping your promises and if you promise me, then I'll believe you. You'll watch over my baby, won't you?"

"I will," Jeff swears, though his chest feels leaden to do it. "I'll do everything I can. I promise."


End file.
